


Go Bang

by Cluegirl



Series: HP Drabbles [10]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drabble Collection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-02
Updated: 2012-02-02
Packaged: 2017-10-30 12:34:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/331791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cluegirl/pseuds/Cluegirl





	1. Trivial Pursuit

Flint watched the pair fly away in grand theatrical style, and he had to grind his teeth.   
Trust them. Bloodywell trust the Bookend Beaters to kite off across the sky with all of Hogwarts watching. 

He'd tell himself later, that he was glad they were gone. Their team would be easier to beat now, Slytherins would find fewer dungbombs in the dorms, and maybe stop eating things that turned them funny colours. Better. Yes.

And the glimpses of those white, freckle-dusted limbs over the shower wall when they lingered behind every single game and practice? The smell of their sweat, spunk and sex in the steaming air? Their never-finished murmurs, patois of groans and sighs that he yearned to translate into his own tongue? Not worth the aggravation.

But for a moment, it still took every ounce of his willpower to keep from summoning his broom and leaping after them.


	2. You get what you pay for.

The hardest part was keeping it a secret. Because when the other could read every glint and twitch of you, could map your sighs, groans, flinches and flickers as home territory, managing a surprise was a damn hard thing to arrange.

Fred's answer was to distract George with sex every time he looked like he might be getting suspicious. So when the supplies came in, he waited to stow them until George was dozing off a blowjob in the office. And when Snape's owl delivered the brewing instructions late one night, neither one of them made it out of bed without wincing the next morning. And neither minded either.

Their birthday arrived, and he presented his gift, flush with pride and deviltry -- lube of a personalized and ostensibly stimulating nature...

Which left them both with hives for a week, and Snape with a broad grin for a month thereafter


	3. send in the clowns.

The thing about redheads in bed  
Was the ginger that grew from their head  
And their pits and their pubes  
Might be eerie to rubes,  
But Kingsley, inspired to dread.

The freckles he could overlook  
And the flush of a young, purple cock  
But the crisp, ginger curls  
From which it unfurled  
Though valiant, he never could brook.

The Ginge of his fancy was bold tho,  
And never a bloke to respect ‘no’  
Tried dye, and tried bleach  
Everywhere he could reach  
And soon rendered his privates to day-glo

He recovered with unguents and salves  
And spells to reduce time by halves  
And though daunted and sore  
Still yon Weasley swore  
Dark chocolate for afters he’d have.

And the Auror in question forgave  
And attempted that fair skin to save  
He lathered his twin  
(both without, and within)  
And resolved the whole thing with a shave.


	4. You can't have any

"Why not?"

George grinned, and dragged deep, so the paper crackled, and the glowing ember blazed resinously sweet. "Stunt your growth," Fred replied, fending Harry off his brother.

"Bollocks!" Harry snarled, "Eating scraps and living in a cupboard stunted my growth, I want some of that!" Harry ducked under Fred's arm, but found himself clamped in damp, musky wool as the beater snagged the joint with a grin.

"Illegal," George squeaked, trying to speak without exhaling. 

"So's shagging a sixteen year old!" Harry fumed, wriggling loose and climbing Fred bodily as the tall redhead held the joint at arm's reach, "Doesn't bother you any!"

George pressed close, trapping the little seeker between his own and his brother's solid and very stoned mass. Hands steadied, lungs emptied, and in seconds, Harry found himself suspended in a sea of heady smoke, urgent hands, and millions of freckles.


	5. Here, one must run as fast as one can just to stay still.

He didn't tell people he was sleeping with them, but when concerned colleagues stared at his under-circled eyes, he thought of rolling in a sea of white linen, encircled and engulfed by two speckled, rufous sharks. When Molly put his cup on the table rather than trust his shaky hands, he thought of the catch-and-slide of a cock in each -- the one left-curved, the other thicker -- until synchopated begging gave way to harmonic bliss in either ear. When Snape smacked strengthening potions unasked onto his chair arm before a meeting, he thought of being the axis of a burning balance, twisting, writhing between their instinctual rhythm, coming so hard he wondered if the very curse wasn't spilling out of his cock.

And when Dumbledore asked how the cypher was coming, he didn't look at them then either. "It's quite a puzzle," he said, "but we're making good time."


End file.
